Flash Moments
by chaoticlivi
Summary: Flash fiction centered around Soul and Maka. Expect lots of fluff and irregularity and occasional appearances from other characters. Most of it is from my 100-prompt challenge but sometimes there will be other stuff.
1. Chapter 1

**So this is a 100-flash fiction challenge, but the gimmick is that I made it up myself (with help from others). If you care about the "rules" and the full list of words they're on my profile.**

**Otherwise, basically I'm just doing ten at a time and posting them all in one chapter. Most of them are fluffier than a bunny's butt; you have been warned. Rating for now is T although that may (probably will) change in future chapters. The pieces are not necessarily related to each other; they're meant to sort of stand alone.**

**The word definitions are mostly paraphrased from Dictionary dot com and the Merriam-Webster Online dictionary. You probably won't need them in this chapter...but in future chapters you might.**

* * *

_**1. cake **__(a compressed mass of matter)_

"Maka!" Soul stood in front of the mirror, gingerly poking a spot on his neck. "You caked so much freakin' makeup on that it's just more obvious now."

She put the makeup set down on the sink dejectedly. "Well, I guess I'll just have to keep trying...or we could rinse it off and start again..."

He grimaced. It wasn't that he didn't want to hide the thing too, but they'd been at this for an _hour_.

"Come on, Soul, the whole school can't see that I gave you a...a hickey..." She sighed, then eyed it and said in a small voice, "It was an accident, I swear. I can't believe I got so overenthusiastic like that..."

Soul moved toward her and smirked. "I can. By the way," he added in the deepest, huskiest voice he could possibly muster, "that was kinda hot."

Maka blushed, but couldn't seem to hold back a little grin. "I...I always thought you'd be the one doing stuff like that. Because of...you know. Your teeth."

"Nah. I'm used to 'em. They're not really that sharp anyway. I won't leave marks that easily." He edged close enough that he knew she'd feel his breath on her ear as he spoke. "Unless you _want_ me to..."

* * *

_**2. entangled **__(involved in a difficult situation, perplexed)_

_Shit shit shit_, Soul thought as his left leg buckled under extreme pain in his Achilles' tendon. Somewhere in the background, he could hear sinister laughter and his rental car keys dropping to the pavement.

An unfamiliar, leering face crawled out from underneath the car. Soul tried to transform his right arm into a scythe so he could fight from the ground.

His left arm transformed instead.

He paused, a little confused, but decided he could _try_ using his left arm...

His right arm, still fleshy and useless, starting swinging around.

"What - what the hell is going on?!" he growled through gritted teeth. For every command his brain gave to one arm or leg, the opposite would spring into action. And it wasn't even possible to control both at once.

All he'd wanted to do was go to the damn _grocery store_.

"Nerve bewitchment," his assailant said in a sing-song voice. "You may not know me, but I definitely know you," he added through a smile like cyanide. He was wiping off a small glowing blade, then tucked it away and held up a syringe full of something white.

Soul was starting to thrash around in vain, movements uncontrolled, ankle bleeding profusely, as the needle approached the side of his neck.

Then a large book came flying out of nowhere and collided with the man's head. The syringe fell harmlessly to the ground.

"I won't let you touch my weapon, you bastard," said Maka's voice. Soul could practically feel the relief rush through his veins as she kneeled down and grabbed his hand urgently. "Can you transform, Soul?"

He tried. It hurt like hell but if he focused on resonating with Maka's soul and transforming his whole body instead of what was happening with his limbs, he would be able to do it...

Maka hefted him into the air. "And now you're going to see why messing with us is a bad idea," she said.

* * *

_**3. tranquil **__(free from turmoil, calm)_

This is a good example of how the apartment is when nothing else is going on:

Soul is lying on his bed, eyes closed but not sleeping. He's listening to complex jazz music. It's playing as loudly as he can get away with. He's listening intently, following the strands of notes and visualizing their paths in his mind. They're tangling together, untangling now, swelling and falling. They make him think of colors and shapes and, eventually, places; places he's been as well as scenery he can only imagine. He focuses on them to meditate, to return to a place of calm.

He can't see souls like Maka can. But he still knows she's here, because he saw her go into her room. She's in a good mood, if a little overexcited about some book. Sometimes she doesn't like to be around people while she's reading because her focus gets so intense. The idea makes him smirk.

Soul doesn't care much for the typical "intellectual pursuit." But he's still always got a lot going on in his mind. To those thoughts he dozes off.

Maka is just finishing a book. This time she's lounging on her own bed. She puts the enormous tome down and sighs contentedly, staring at the ceiling while she processes what she's learned. She feels that her world has been expanded a bit; now she knows about people and things and places she might never have encountered without this book. Knowledge, even just the knowledge that something exists, is like a vague connection to something. Maka can almost feel her connections all over the globe.

She hears some jazz playing from Soul's bedroom, just below the level where she would complain about it if she were studying. Since their trials in the Book of Eibon, Maka no longer feels threatened by music.

She doesn't really "get it," still, but she feels free to listen and ponder for a while. This piece could be quite enjoyable, actually. Soul has said she should "just stop thinking so much" when she tries to understand music. Maka doesn't exactly know how to do that. She muses for a while about what that could mean, even.

But it's getting late. Maka grudgingly gets up off the bed to go start dinner.

Blair is napping in the slanted afternoon sunlight on the floor, eyes closed in contentment. Later tonight, she will go snooping through her roommates' personal things. But for now, she's just letting the golden sun wash over her. She opens a smug eye as Maka walks past.

* * *

_**4. go **__(to proceed)_

Soul wondered whether he should follow her out.

She'd been so upset. She had put down the phone and strode swiftly, stiffly to the door. Her voice cracked as she said, "I'll be back...later."

Yeah...he should give her a little time to cool down, but then go. She might need to be reminded that he's here.

He found her lying on her back on a park bench. There was no one around, and she had her eyes closed, but she didn't look lax enough to be asleep. She seemed to have been crying recently but was calm at the moment.

"Hey Maka," he began. He spoke slowly and cautiously, not entirely sure he was even welcome here. "Look, I'm pretty sure your mother just has some personal issues to work out. And I _know_ it's nothing about you."

She waited for him to finish, then sat up and patted the spot on the bench next to her, where he sat down. They both stared off into the sky.

"Soul. I've been thinking a lot. And I really wanted to tell you that I'm glad you're here."

* * *

_**5. temple **__(a place devoted to worship)_

"This is where you will worship your god from now on," Black Star crowed, dramatically gesturing at the interior of the new apartment. "And you." He pointed directly at Soul. "I challenge you to battle me...with video games!"

"Yeah, you're on." Soul smirked. "Let me show you how it's done."

Maka rolled her eyes.

"Here, while they're doing that, I'll show you around," Tsubaki said. "How've you been? We haven't had much time to talk lately," she said as they rounded the corner to tour the bedroom. The single bedroom.

"Not much has changed, really," Maka answered honestly. "We've been as busy in school as you and Black Star have." She glanced around and then asked quietly, "Tsubaki. Is it - is it weird? Sleeping in the same room with Black Star?"

Tsubaki smiled. "Not at all. Our old place only had one bedroom, so we're used to it. This time we decided it wouldn't be worth the extra rent a second one would cost.

Maka nodded, but still looked unsure of herself. "So I guess you guys didn't have to actually agree to it in the first place. It's not like you had to ask him or anything."

Tsubaki gave Maka a sly little grin. "This isn't entirely about me and Black Star, is it?"

* * *

_**6. eternity **__(forever)_

What a New Year's Eve - nothing but Shibusen missions all day.

The one benefit was being outside five minutes before midnight in Nevada, having taken out the last evil soul of the night.

"Oh! Soul!" Maka said. "It's almost time for the Death City fireworks and we can see them from here...let's just watch them and go home after."

"Uhh...okay," Soul said, too tired to argue even though all he wanted to do was collapse on his bed.

They sat on a rock and stared expectantly into space - into the patch of eternity where they were expecting fireworks to appear shortly.

..._Eternity, huh?_ Now would probably be as good a time as any. Heart pounding, Soul reached for his meister's hand. She stiffened for a moment in surprise, but then leaned her head, wordlessly, against his shoulder.

"Ah, they're starting," she breathed softly. The first firework exploded in the sky.

Later that night, she clung to him more tightly than usual on the motorcycle as they rode peacefully toward eternity together.

* * *

_**7. mass **__(a large, disorganized bundle)_

As the door swung open, Tsubaki, Black Star, and Death the Kid were welcomed to Soul and Maka's apartment by a hunched figure covered in a burrito of blankets.

"Oh, you really did need help," Kid said.

"Thanks," Maka mumbled as Tsubaki handed her a pair of thick, heavy paper bags. "Uh...you didn't all have to come..."

"Sure we did!" Black Star pointed at Soul, who was sniffling and sneezing in a mass of rumpled blankets, messy hair, and used tissues on one of the couches. "See? You need us to help take care of you! And being the great me, well," he grinned, "there's no way I'm gonna get sick from you guys!"

"You and Tsubaki already had this flu." Black Star seemed to ignore this. Maka looked at the only other woman in the room for help.

"We'll only be here for a little while," Tsubaki assured her. "I'll warm the soup for you two and tidy up a little bit."

Kid started returning the symmetry to anything which could potentially have been symmetrical but was not at the time.

"Aren't you gonna get sick, too?" Soul muttered from deep inside a comforter.

"I'm a shinigami." His tone was very matter-of-fact. "I warned Liz and Patty that they could get sick if they try to visit, but they do send their best wishes. They are the ones who bought your groceries, and they also sent this." He put a "Get Well" card and a small box (presumably full of chocolate) on the kitchen table.

Kid departed before too long, after giving the duo a rare genuine smile and telling them to feel better soon. Black Star and Tsubaki stayed slightly longer just to chat, but when Soul and Maka were obviously getting ready to fall asleep they left as well.

"At least they're reliable," Soul said to his partner across the coffee table after all their friends left.

"Mm. They are." She smiled wanly into her own pillow. "I'm glad Black Star didn't try to write on our faces this time."

"Heh. He's growing up."

* * *

_**8. tapestry **__(a heavy handwoven fabric with a complex design used as a wall hanging)_

"This...I have to admire this," Kid was saying in awe. He stood in front of a glass case containing an old tapestry.

"You've been-" Liz pulled on his arm in vain. "-'admiring' it for a full hour now!"

"Such a perfectly symmetrical weave...I can't even believe someone did this by hand. And four hundred years ago, also."

Soul rolled his eyes. "Happy birthday, Maka. Didn't you know bringing Kid, Patty, and Black Star to the museum is the worst idea ever?"

Maka pouted. "But that's how I wanted to celebrate! If you don't like it, why don't you leave?"

Her weapon smirked. "Because if I do, you'll get all upset later, and you'll Chop me into oblivion."

Maka's retort was interrupted by a crashing sound.

"Hey," Black Star suddenly yawned. "Where's Patty?"

"Besides," Soul added hastily, "a cool guy wouldn't leave his partner alone with these freak shows on her birthday."

* * *

_**9. delinquent **__(someone who is guilty of a misdeed)_

"Soul Eater."

Soul turned around to see Spirit Albarn staring stonily in his direction.

"Uh...yeah? What is it, old man?"

The older Death Scythe approached, looking stern but not overtly hostile. Soul simply stared him down as Spirit put a hand on his shoulder.

"Listen, Soul." His voice was softer now. "I still think you look like a little delinquent. But I know you've been good to Maka because you care about her, and that's what matters. So as her father, I'm saying now - thank you. And keep being good. Don't do anything stupid or I'll kill you."

The younger scythe watched for a moment as Spirit walked away. "Hey! Where the hell did that come from?"

Spirit paused and spoke without looking back. "I know what's going on, Soul. And if I want to have a relationship with my daughter at all, I know that I'm going to have to accept you."

* * *

_**10. natural **__(produced by nature; un-tampered with; not artificial)_

Maka's eyes.

They're as natural as the rest of her. Maybe the association happens just because they're green, and he associates green with nature like everyone else seems to.

But it might also be because they strike that perfect balance of vibrancy and subtlety. They're not flashy. They're not that chemical green color, the kind that appears in the paint sets she messes around with on occasion. She also never, ever puts makeup on them - at least not unless Liz and Patty forcibly pin her down and apply it.

But they stand out anyway. They can be startling. First of all, they're so big. Sometimes he thinks they're actually surrounding him, especially if he suspects she's stealing glances at his soul. They're also...really _warm_. Even though they're green and fire isn't green, he can see a fire in them anyway.

When she gets depressed, he can see the dull embers barely smoldering and he wants to stoke them. When she's angry, her irises are pinpoints of flame. When she's determined, the sparks in those eyes are contagious. When she's happy, they're like hearth flames. They're the color of leaves, real natural springtime leaves in places that aren't as dry as Death City.

Soul blearily blinks these stupid metaphors away. Those comparisons are kind of trite. She just has naturally pretty eyes; there's nothing else like them anywhere.

* * *

**Extra: I wrote this for "entangled" first, then reread the definition of entangled and decided the prompt wouldn't really fit the uh...mood that the definition put me in. But I liked the results anyway and decided to keep them as their own thing.**

This time he didn't hold her hand as usual. He shifted his own in a way that made her glance at him questioningly, as if afraid he might pull away; but Soul only wanted to weave his fingers between hers.

Maka allowed herself a smile.

He focused all of his recent realizations into that one physical connection, his thoughts flowing from his mind to that hand-hold. He squeezed her hand as tightly as he could while remaining gentle, stroking her finger with his thumb.

_Don't get all wrapped up in their bullshit. You're the perfect meister for me. We fit together like pieces of a puzzle or like Yin and Yang. You're the only one who's ever saved me from myself and still been proud of me even though you had to do that. So next time someone tells you you're not 'worthy' of me, feel free to laugh, because I sure will._

They weren't resonating so she couldn't exactly read his mind. But Soul knew that with her incredible ability to read souls, she'd receive everything he was sending her.

* * *

**Sheesh...hopefully next time I can write a little more variety. They kind of seem too similar to one another. Anyway, thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Hello, guys! These have been lying around for a really, really long time. Even though there are only three, I'm not sure when I'll write more for this batch, so I'm just going to upload them now. "Radiation" turned out freakishly like a certain other project in the fandom even though I wrote it months ago. Figured in that case I should just go ahead and dump it here.

* * *

_**dock**_

Soul and Black Star were being forced by brain freeze to eat their ice cream slowly. The girls - even Maka - had gone off shopping somewhere, and Kid was having trouble choosing a flavor back at the vendor's stand because all of the buckets of ice cream were already scooped asymmetrically. He wasn't having a _complete_ breakdown, though, which was quite an improvement.

The two friends decided to sit at the edge of the dock, legs dangling toward the water. Everything smelled like the ocean - like gas for the boats and salty water and fish, both alive and dead. There was also the smell of pavement and wood which had been baking in the sun all day. At the end of the dock that transitioned to the sidewalk were fragments of mollusk shells where seagulls had dropped them so they would break open.

Soul was briefly worried that Black Star was going to try to be a smartass, shove him off the edge and into the water, and eat both their ice cream sundaes.

But Black Star had other ways to go about being a smartass.

"Dude, I totally know about you and Maka."

Soul hesitated for only a fraction of a second before shoving more ice cream into his mouth. "What about us?" he asked around it nonchalantly.

"Don't play stupid." Black Star grinned, slurping down some of his own snack. "You're totally gaga over her. Even I'm noticing the way you look at her and how you're touching her all the time. If I'm noticing it, it must be pretty obvious, right?"

"Nope. You're wrong," Soul said automatically.

"Whatever," Black Star laughed. "Either you're lying or you're in denial."

There was a long, rather pregnant silence.

Soul knew full well that Black Star was entirely correct. Honestly, he even _wanted_ his friend to know, to be able to let all this internal pressure out a little bit. But he doubted Black Star's secret-keeping abilities.

"Heh. Even if that were true, there's no way I would tell you. You couldn't keep a secret if your life depended on it."

"Seriously? How could you speak that way of me!?" Black Star roared incredulously.

Soul simply smirked and punched him lightly in the arm. "You know it's true."

Black Star didn't respond with a punch. Instead he looked really serious, and it startled Soul; this wasn't a side of his friend he saw often.

"That's not true at all, Soul," he said. "Look, if I know it's important, I can keep it. Okay, maybe...maybe not from Tsubaki. But she's even more trustworthy than I am, right? And we would never tell Maka or anyone else. I know I'm a really big, loud guy, but if I think it's important to you, I swear no one else will ever know."

Soul looked down at his ice cream, contemplating.

"Okay. But you can never tell anyone, okay? Or I'll kill you."

"Pfft. No you won't."

"Then I'll...I dunno, but you'll regret it."

"Spit it out, dude."

Soul took a deep breath and said very quietly, "You were right. About Maka."

Black Star grinned hugely and slapped him hard on the back. "I knew it!" he shouted triumphantly.

"Keep it down," Soul hissed, wondering if he had been wrong to believe Black Star's little speech.

"But I don't know why you think it has to be such a big secret," Black Star continued, keeping his voice down this time. "I mean it's pretty obvious that she likes you too..."

* * *

_**radiation**_

"Damn it's c-cold," Soul shivered. He picked up his cup from the coffee table, took a sip, and made a grumpy face. "Even this stuff is getting cold faster than it usually does. I was gone for like five minutes!"

"Mmm. I still can't believe we ended up in the one room with the broken radiator."

"This whole place is sketchy, if you ask me," Soul said sourly. "Let's never stay in one of these chains again. Also, how is it fair that you get the only big blanket?" He regarded his meister, who reclined on the couch reading, covered by a huge, thick comforter.

She sighed at him and rolled her eyes, then sat up and lifted the blanket. "Oh just come on. I knew you were gonna complain about that."

Soul hesitated, studying Maka. She wanted him...under the blanket with her?

When the shadow of a doubt crossed her expression, though, and she started to drop the blanket back down, Soul realized that was exactly what she was offering and he'd just offended her by hesitating. So he rushed forward in two quick strides and plunked himself down onto the couch, wrapping himself up in a portion of the blanket next to her.

"Thanks," he muttered.

The rest of the night, they remained angled toward each other, so that by the time they awoke in a flurry of awkward coughs and blushing she had been leaning on his shoulder and his chin was propped against the crown of her head.

* * *

_**emerald**_

They were playing tag. Like children. Eighteen years old and playing tag.

Who could blame them, though? After finishing the mission they'd been left with a glorious summer evening in an idyllic, newly-peaceful countryside. At the end of the battle Patty had flopped down on the grass and pointed at a cloud that looked like her favorite African mammal. Liz had joined her, and then Tsubaki and Black Star; Soul and Maka glanced at each other, grinned, and gladly relaxed on the soft grass. Even Kid tentatively decided he could handle lying on the ground here.

It was only a matter of time before the more hyper members of the group got antsy, though. Soon a game of tag was instigated.

Maka raced as fast as she could toward Soul. Yeah, he was a decent runner, but against her he stood no chance. In desperation he pushed his legs as fast as they could possibly run - painfully fast - and then tried to make a feint in the other direction.

Too bad, though. She was ready. Maka launched herself at her partner, crashing into him considerably harder than she intended, and wrapped her arms around him out of instinct to keep him from rolling away and escaping; then they both fell. As they hit the ground hard the smell of soil and grass filled their noses.

It took almost no time for them to recover from the shock of hitting the ground, being used to falling and getting hit with things, and Maka started to laugh. Soul scowled at first, but couldn't stay angry, and soon she was pulling him toward her, trying to get him to roll with her through the soft grass. Soul's smell, hair and clothes and something she couldn't exactly name, mingled with the smell of summer - grass and dirt and sunlight.

He obliged, turning around to surprise her by wrestling playfully. Usually the two avoided public displays of affection, but everyone else was still busy and they were pushing their hands against each other fighting for some kind of imaginary dominance and her lips were so damn soft and kissable.

And she couldn't resist his kisses.

Soon they were taking turns being on top, rolling back and forth through a small sun-dappled patch. Mostly they drank in the sight of each other as they kissed - eyes, lips, noses, hair. On the occasion that they looked away, perhaps to check on whether their friends had started staring, there were shades of green everywhere, from the yellow-green backlit leaves in the trees to the deep emerald shadows close to the Earth.


	3. SoMa Week

**Note: **Hey, everyone! I'm just (finally) uploading all the mini fics I wrote for SoMa week. Sorry there's not anything new to most of you! If this is your first time reading them, I hope you enjoy them, however.

As always SE does not belong to me.

Warning for blood in the "Blood" prompt, and character death in the "Goodbye" prompt. There isn't really any angst, however.

* * *

**Day 2: Trust**

It took Spirit a long time to come around.

It was probably a number of factors. Soul really was a delinquent-looking little punk, especially in those early days - but Spirit was also more than likely projecting, he later realized with shame. He would assume every guy who went anywhere near his daughter was a hopeless lech because that's what he saw in himself.

When Soul and Maka were young, still kids despite all of their responsibilities, Spirit gave Soul a lot of difficulty. Deep down, he trusted Maka to pick a good partner - there must, he reasoned, have been something worthy about that boy because his daughter was not stupid enough to pick a bad weapon. But Spirit was still hurt that she wouldn't forgive him - she'd spout things about all the sleaze inherent in men - and then she would turn around and trust Soul with her life.

Besides, Soul was - in the eyes of an overly protective father - a gormless little brat. Spirit didn't even know where the boy came from, but he was slouchy and lazy and disrespectful - he even did his best to come across that way on purpose. And the older scythe did not approve.

Things in Spirit's mind changed pretty quickly after Soul got slashed across the chest by Crona and Ragnarok, though.

At first, he didn't know exactly what had happened, only that someone his daughter cared about very much had been put on the verge of death. He realized that while he doubted he'd ever exactly enjoy Soul's company, he had no actual hatred for the kid and would never want to see him die. Then after he learned the whole story (that Soul wasn't merely injured, he had thrown himself in front of Maka to protect her) his grudging respect for a fellow weapon became real affection.

Spirit still felt obligated not to go too easy. It was a father's job, he reasoned, to give any guy who got close to Maka a run for his money. He would sometimes make little verbal jabs at Soul and at other times be perfectly nice - congratulating the young scythe on the acquisition of a witch's soul, asking for help with the father-daughter relationship.

And eventually, Spirit began to really, truly trust Soul. It was bittersweet, because by this point, he knew and understood why his trust was nearly worthless to both Soul and Maka. But it was still such a nice difference from how things had been in the beginning. Having faith in another person felt good.

One fine day, Spirit walked into Deathbucks and noticed that his daughter and her weapon were studying there - at least, Maka was studying; Soul was sipping away at some kind of beverage, looking distracted. Spirit saw the young scythe lean over to casually kiss Maka's forehead while she busied herself over a textbook. She glanced up, grinned wryly, and demanded that Soul do his schoolwork as she pointed at his neglected books.

Then when he responded with a sulky expression, she gave him a quick kiss on the lips before returning to her own studying and coffee.

Even now, Spirit briefly considered making some sort of threat, because it is damn near impossible to resist the Protective Fatherly Impulse. But they were too old for meddlesome parents - too grown-up, too smart, too close. A moment later they turned around and caught his eye and Soul looked panicked, while Maka put her palm to her face.

Spirit walked forward toward the young pair and put his hand on Soul's shoulder, grinning, because he knew what they were expecting.

"Calm down. I'm not gonna throw a public tantrum," he said serenely. "It's pretty hard to stop being an overprotective dad, but I realized a long time ago that Maka is the only one who has the right to choose her friends. And weapon. And, ah, boyfriends. And guess what?"

"What?" Soul asked, a little nervous. Maka was watching as though she couldn't believe how well her crazy father was taking all this; no doubt she had assumed she'd be responsible for dragging his sobbing ass out of the building if he caught them kissing.

"I think you're already a better partner than I ever was."

**Day 3: Protection**

"Sometimes I can't believe I used to live here," Soul mumbled as he felt the first few cold raindrops on his nose. "New England is so gross."

"I kinda like it though," Maka said cheerfully. "It's different." Her chipper words did not match the atmosphere, or the knowledge that they had spent six hours in the raw, cold weather hunting an enemy who was nowhere to be found.

The rain increased; Soul opened the small umbrella they had brought. The two jostled and tried to fit underneath but it was no use - poor planning had given them a single-person umbrella.

"It's okay - you can use it," Soul said, handing it over.

"Huh?" Maka looked confused. "You can have it. I'll be fine."

"No way," he insisted. "You'll catch a cold."

"But if I take it, then you'll catch a cold," Maka argued.

Soul shrugged. "Maka, just let me help you. Anyway, catching a cold is really no big deal."

She grinned wryly. "Then why don't you hang on to it and let me catch the cold?"

"The weapon protects the meister," Soul insisted. Maka rolled her eyes but knew she wouldn't get out of this and took the umbrella just in time to avoid the oncoming downpour.

When they got back to the hotel, Maka turned and got a look at her partner for the first time since arguing about the umbrella, then promptly burst into laughter. He looked like he'd fallen in the dunk tank at a carnival.

"What?" he asked sulkily, knowing full well what she was laughing at.

"Come on, we gotta get changed," she giggled as she hit the elevator button. He was shivering violently, soaked to the bone, and when they got back to the room, she wordlessly fished a bunch of dry clothes out of his suitcase.

"Change," she commanded, and like the obedient creature he was, Soul went to the bathroom to change. She'd grabbed him a pair of black sweat pants, a nondescript gray tee shirt, and some red boxers with a bone pattern. He mused on whether she'd caught the innuendo there. Changing from sopping wet, ragged clothes into soft, clean, dry cotton felt damn incredible. He left the bathroom and collapsed onto one of the two beds, shutting his eyes and focusing on the warmth and softness of the bed and his clothes.

Half an hour later, he woke up sneezing, and Maka was there with a warm cup of the hotel's lemon tea. Soul accepted it gratefully.

"You fell asleep without a blanket on you or anything," Maka muttered, pulling up the one from the bottom of the bed to cover her weapon.

"I thought you couldn't get a cold from the weather," Soul smirked. She was being cute and worrying about him.

"You can't get a cold directly from the weather, but being cold can lower your immune functioning and make you more likely to get sick, and we've been walking around all day, so your body will be tired," Maka said matter-of-factly.

Then, with very little warning, she climbed into the bed and put her arm around him, lying down at his side.

"What the—" Soul started.

"Warmin' you up," Maka mumbled into the pillow. She wouldn't make eye contact, but her face was beet red. Soul knew she was doing it just because she wanted to, possibly even out of a sense of guilt. He slyly lifted the blanket, along with an eyebrow.

"Pfft. Now you're trying to sleep without a blanket on you." He tossed half of the blanket over her, put the empty tea cup on the table, and settled in at eye-level with his meister.

They napped for two hours, then woke up awkwardly blushing because they hadn't expected to be spooning. Maka ended up as the big spoon. They still didn't move for a while.

**Day 4: Fight**

It was odd, Maka mused, how gentle he could be both in tone and in deed, even when he was angry. He usually seemed so rough around the edges.

They'd taken to patching up anything short of a life-threatening injury after each battle, because going all the way to a hospital or clinic was far too time-consuming. Usually, as the meister, Maka was the one with more serious cuts.

Most of the time, they would be able to walk back to the hotel room and take off their bloody clothes. (They went through a lot of clothes.) They'd start by cleaning and dressing the wounds they could reach themselves, and then take turns with whatever was left.

Soul dabbed at her injuries as gently as he could with a cotton ball and some disinfectant that burned on contact. She was lying down on the bed, and she wasn't wearing a shirt (which Soul simply tried not to think about, with mixed success). The contact with the wound made her flinch.

This time, they were so tired of fighting. It had been a week straight of nothing but battle after battle each day with too-short breaks for food and sleep at night, since they had discovered that what was believed to be one monster was actually a den of fifty nearly-identical monsters. Even Shibusen didn't usually work its meisters and weapons this hard, but it was an emergency situation and Maka and Soul were up for the job.

They'd fought with each other, too - not about serious things. About stupid things that were easy to get over. Sometimes it bordered on flirting. Sometimes that was tiring, too, but sometimes it was energizing.

Soul couldn't help but smile as he carefully smoothed a bandage over the deepest cut. It would be hard to get her to admit to any of the higher-ups just how exhausted she was; she would share with him (probably because she couldn't hide it from him anyway), but if he told Lord Death or Stein or Death Scythe, she would huff indignantly and say he was lying.

Because deep down, she was a fighter, and the world needed her, and sharing her exhaustion would just burden everyone else.

"Maka," he said out loud, without much thought, because he liked the way the word felt on his tongue.

"Hmm?"

"Ah, just…never mind."

She made a slightly disappointed sound but didn't ask any more.

It didn't take much longer to finish the bandaging. "Thank you, Soul, she said, before she tossed a pillow at his head and told him to turn around so she could put her shirt back on. He snickered and obliged.

Maka tossed another pillow at his head. "Okay. I'm done."

"Hey, no fair," Soul complained more loudly than necessary. "We can't have a fair pillow fight if you're hurt."

"I wasn't trying to start a pillow fight, but that's a good idea. How about a rain check?"

xxx

Two days later they were back at the front door of their own apartment, discussing what dinner would be.

"Let's go out. I don't feel like cooking."

"Cool," Soul said. "How about that seafood place?"

"Oh," Maka answered. "I'd rather have Thai."

"Come on, we always have Thai."

"No we don't," she insisted. "We had pizza last time."

"So? That was one time out of about a million."

She had disappeared into her room, and Soul wasn't sure what she was doing in there, but as soon as he turned his back he was hit with a pillow.

"Maka!"

"I'm feeling a lot better, Soul," she said, eyes sparkling, "and there's only one way to decide where to eat."

He dashed to his own room and grabbed _two_ pillows, planning to catch hers between them. It was a clumsy process, and while he had the advantage of two pillows, her one pillow was easier to use and she dodged him easily. Finally, through a flurry of fabric, she managed to articulate, "W - wait! How do we know who won?"

"I dunno," Soul answered, batting at her face with a pillow and pausing to raise an eyebrow. "You started it."

**Day 5: Blood**

She'd had enough strength to finish off the Rail Tracer - but then she'd fallen to the ground, too hurt to walk anywhere as the adrenaline faded.

As he held her close, she noticed that he was shaking. Well, she was shaking a bit too, she admitted. She wanted to move her hand, which rested against Soul's chest, but it hurt too much, so she just looked at (what should have been) her pure white glove instead. It was covered in blood.

"Soul, you're— you're bleeding."

"That's your blood, dummy," he said, on his way up the stairs with her in his arms; his voice was tense, in the way of someone trying and failing to act casual. Poster advertisements (lawyers, movies, airlines) flew by in her peripheral vision, and she wasn't entirely certain why she'd bothered to notice them through the haze of pain. Soul had an enormous, gaping cut on his shoulder. Didn't it hurt to carry her up the subway stairs like this?

She supposed she had it worse than he did after all. They wouldn't be patching this up on their own; instead, they would be hurrying back to the rendezvous point to get in touch with Kim, Jackie, Stein, and Marie.

She threw up again, and again it was all blood. Soul almost tripped when he felt her painful spasm and looked down, eyes going wide, but he did not stop moving. Maka could feel her vision starting to fade to black, but she angrily wrestled it back into her grasp. It hurt to be jostled around as Soul dodged down alleyways and sidewalks, but she didn't complain because she knew he was trying to move fast. Also, complaining took energy.

Then she felt him stop and swear. "Shit!"

"What's wrong?" Maka asked weakly.

"We're at the bridge but the stupid fucking thing is up right now!"

Maka felt her heart sink. All told, they'd probably be standing here for ten minutes before the bridge was back in position for foot and vehicle traffic, and there was no one around to lower it - the city was near-abandoned now and the bridge was on an automatic timer. It was no use to go anywhere else - any other crossing would take at least as long to reach, and their teammates were on the other side of the river.

She wondered if it was worth hoping that Kim and Jackie might find them from the air. She doubted it, since no one knew what was going on, and it brought on a wave of pain and nausea.

She could feel Soul's mood, too, and it was almost as painful as her physical injuries. He was scared, confused, angry, impatient, guilty, and sad, among other things, and his mind buzzed with rage at the world.

He looked down and blinked when he felt her soul flutter lightly against his in an effort to reassure him. He seemed to realize that he was upsetting her; he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, standing in one place waiting for the bridge.

Soul was pensive for a few minutes, obviously trying out different thoughts. Some were probably attempts at calming down, while others were likely attempts at finding solutions.

Then Maka coughed up some more blood on this jacket.

"Sorry," she said weakly.

"Don't apologize for that," he answered, sounding deeply pained.

They had only been standing around for about two minutes - none of the boats were even finished going through the bridge - and it was really, really hard to focus on anything comforting, only on how hard her body seemed to be working just to stay still and awake.

Before she realized what was happening, Soul put his forehead to hers and invited her to a gentle, loose soul resonance. She was able to do that, and hoped very much that he wouldn't feel too much pain through the link.

Then there was music.

This was not a song he'd played before. In its notes, he wove thoughts of healing and comfort, of the people who would be helping them in only a matter of minutes, of soft beds and Marie's tea and everyone's laughter. Maka found some strength, enough strength to smile, and she got goosebumps that didn't even hurt as she realized that yes, she would be fine, they would make it to the checkpoint.

The bridge began to move back into place for them.

xxx

"It was really easy to heal Maka," Kim said brightly. "What'd you do?"

"Huh?" Soul asked in confusion.

"Usually when I use healing magic," she started, "I need to concentrate a lot. It's a tricky process. It was noticeably easier to heal Maka, which is weird because that kishin caused a lot of internal and external damage. It seems like you must have done something to start her healing before I even got there."

Soul smiled. "I'm not completely sure, although I did play the piano for her when we got delayed for a few minutes." He glanced at Maka, who slept peacefully in the makeshift bed Stein and Marie had to offer, now clean, bandaged, and healing inside and out. She was smiling.

**Day 6: Demon**

First Maka was in bed, mind fading into the blissful oblivion of sleep. Then she felt Soul calling for her and she answered in a mysterious way even she didn't fully understand, still in the fog of slumber.

She was suddenly aware of her surroundings, a candlelit place with red curtains instead of walls. She could hear voices around the other side of one of the curtains: Soul and Little Ogre. Maka glanced down and noted that she was in her Black Room dress.

"Doesn't it ever bother you, not being special?" Little Ogre was asking.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, you jackass. Shut up," Soul answered.

"Sure you do. You have such a good meister - and she has such a garden-variety weapon."

"Weren't you ranting just yesterday about how powerful I can be?"

"Well, sure, but it's not really about power, is it? It's about…who you are."

"Why don't you go over there in the corner and pick your nose or something? You little creep."

"Now, now, Evans. Don't shoot the messenger."

Soul was quiet for a long moment. "I told you to leave Maka out of this."

"Because it reminds you of how you'll never measure up to her?"

"Get the fuck out," Soul snarled, pointing to an area apparently leading nowhere, enough fury on his face to startle the black-blood parasite.

Maka chose that moment to step forward from the curtained shadows.

"You still don't know I think you're the best partner in the world?" she asked, looking skeptical and maybe a little affronted.

Soul stared. "Huh? You again? Where'd you come from?"

"You called me in your sleep, Soul, I could feel it," she said. "Anyway, what the hell is going on? You dragged me into a fight with this jerk for some reason, right?" She gestured dismissively toward the ogre, who scowled.

"Uh, not on purpose." Soul scratched the back of his head in genuine confusion.

"Well, you really wanted her here," Little Ogre said. "As soon as we started talking, your soul reached out for her - because you're too weak-minded to argue with me alone, right?"

"I wasn't doing anything intentional," the weapon insisted. "Go back to bed, Maka. Leave."

Annoying though it was to be immediately told off, Maka kept her cool and walked over to Soul, resting her hand on his arm. "No."

"What do you mean, 'no'? You can't just hang around in my soul without my permission!"

"I'll leave, but hear me out. Maybe it's important to talk about."

Soul glared, and then sighed. "Yeah. Fine. Whatever."

Maka turned an icy stare to the demon. "Go away."

"Fine, fine, I'm going. I know when I'm not wanted," the creature shrugged. Both doubted that he was really going very far, though.

"Now what is this about, Soul?"

"Nothing, really," he insisted again. "I don't even know why you're here."

"The Black Blood takes advantage of your insecurities," Maka continued. "I know there was something to what he said. Don't play dumb with me."

Soul rolled his eyes and spoke impatiently, as though he was listing off memorized dates for a history exam.

"Honestly, sometimes I still feel like you're a great meister and I'm just some decent weapon who was lucky enough to end up with you. Maybe I'm not bad, but I'm not really that great either." He knew there was no need to be calling himself mediocre. It had taken years, but he had finally gained some surety of his competence. And yet…

"What? I - you're - I couldn't imagine being strong with another weapon like I am with you. You really are that great."

"It's not just that. It's other stuff. It's…hard to explain. There are a lot of things I admire about who you are, and I don't know if I have anything like that." He couldn't make eye contact.

"No, Soul. I first picked you because I saw something special in you, and don't you dare tell me I was wrong, because I wasn't. You're a great partner. And you know what else?" she continued, grabbing his tie and yanking him toward her.

"Huh?"

"I'm not just talking about a _weapon partner_," Maka whispered, planting a soft, warm kiss on Soul's parted lips. He could only stare as she drew back and added, "Since we met, I've always loved the way you play the piano, because you put so much of yourself into it. That's not because you're my weapon. You weren't my weapon at the time. That's because you're _you_. You were the first boy I really trusted, and you've proven over and over again that I was _right_ to trust you."

By this time, Soul's face felt so hot he was surprised his eyebrows hadn't been set on fire. Later he would wish he'd come back with some kind of compliment for her, but at that moment he was almost speechless. "How could I not?" he muttered softly.

"Don't think I'm done with you yet," she said. "I could go on about how you've changed and become the cool guy you wanted to be as a kid, or how you're such a loyal friend, or how you're a safe place for me. Or how you act like you don't care but you really do. I could go on and on, Soul."

"Th…thanks," he murmured. Soul had never been that great at taking compliments. "I didn't mean to drag you into this."

"I'm glad to be here," Maka answered, and she stepped forward to offer him a hug. He finally loosened up enough to accept it, kissing her hair before even thinking about it. When he did, she leaned back to kiss him again, and he returned it enthusiastically.

**Day 7: Goodbye**

"I wonder who'll be the next to rent our apartment," Maka sighed, sparing a last glance around. She felt a strange sort of…groundlessness looking through the barren rooms. Even Soul's posters were gone, packed up and hauled away already with the rest of their belongings, bound for a new wall in their new abode.

"I dunno," Soul said. "Some students, probably."

"I just need to say goodbye to this place one more time," she muttered quietly, mostly to herself. He accompanied her as she strolled from room to room, silent most of the time.

It was strange, as though the apartment was haunted by the ghosts of still-living people. Maka could still see all their belongings in her mind's eye, as though they were in the empty spaces, and she could still see their friends in each room.

She heard echoes of Black Star breaking through the living room window at 5 AM as a "special birthday surprise" for Soul.

She saw Patty standing there with a big grin and a thick layer of brownie batter covering herself and the entire kitchen.

She saw herself and Liz peering into the mirror in the bathroom as Liz fumbled with Maka's hair for hours on end.

She saw Crona hunched over on the couch, too embarrassed to accept the baked gifts she and her friends were offering.

She saw Kid rearranging the books on the bookshelf to welcome them both home from the hospital after a particularly rough kishin fight.

She saw Tsubaki sitting on her bed, patting her shoulder; "Trust me, it will be okay," the chain scythe was saying.

And everywhere, she saw Soul. It was truly surreal having him next to her when she could still see his younger self slouching around, using too much hair gel, listening to his Walkman instead of his meister, diligently posting weird artwork all over the walls. She saw him as a young teenager knocking on her door lazily to ask to copy her homework (she slammed it in his face). She saw him come back and knock again, but he was a couple years older and this time it was because she hadn't come out of her room all day. Maka could also see him in his own room, like the time she'd walked in when he was still wrapping her birthday present or the time she caught him drooling while he slept on the schoolbooks he was supposed to be studying.

She saw them together, too - tripping over each other while they moved in for the first time and sitting silently at the kitchen table because they didn't know what to talk about. It made her reach over and grab his hand, which reminded her of other things, like how they used to sit on different couches, then opposite sides of the same couch. And then they slowly started moving closer together until there was no space between them at all.

She saw them sleeping in the same bed for the first time, saw Soul nearly go into a panic when her father knocked unexpectedly on the door the next morning. The memory made her laugh and kiss him on the cheek. He raised an eyebrow, but kissed her back.

She could see Blair sleeping on the floor - lying in whatever pool of sunlight was most handy, attacking Soul with her boobs in human form, making badly-cooked fish with magic on the stove.

"So much happened here," Maka murmured. "It's strange to be leaving. I kinda feel like we just moved in."

"Tch. It's not like we're moving far. We'll still be in Death City." Soul squeezed her hand anyway. "I know what you mean, though."

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Maka began slowly, "but I think I'll miss living with Blair."

"Careful what you wish for," Soul laughed. "We don't know for sure that she isn't gonna follow us."

xxx

70 years later.

Most partnerships of any kind involve a goodbye, and not just to an apartment. It is a rare and extremely merciful case in which both partners live long and then die together.

She stood there, staring at his grave long after everyone else went home. They had a chance to say goodbye, but she still wanted to reflect on their life together.

She was a strong old lady, though, and she knew he would never really leave her. It would be impossible - his music was forever intertwined with the fibers of her soul. In fact, sometimes, if she explored her own soul, she could catch little glimmers of his still living there. She passed the rest of her time as she had always wanted to, as he had always wanted to - helping the next generation learn about how to save the world. She felt proud, knowing that it would be in good hands.

One morning she woke up - was it really waking up? - in the Black Room instead of her own bed.

He was there, and he looked exactly like he had at every moment in his life all at the same time, and it all coalesced into a strangely coherent image.

She glanced at her arms as they wound around him and realized she appeared the same way. They kissed each other "hello," then embraced and stood there for - how long? Minutes? Hours? It could even have been days.

He took her hand and led her past the red curtains; this time, there was no darkness. Instead they stepped out to an island in the sky, held up by a pair of wings. There were bridges on every side.

Maka smiled. She had missed him so badly, being able to really see him, talk to him, rather than just remember.

But she had a question. "You know, people hallucinate sometimes when they die…am I hallucinating you?"

Soul rolled his eyes but smiled back in her direction. He, too, had missed being able to banter with her. "Bookworm. No, you're not just seeing things, okay? Even if you were, it wouldn't matter." When she pouted playfully, he squeezed her hand and offered that roguish grin of his. It still gave her butterflies.

Something - another life, an afterlife, a rebirth, an eternal slumber, something neither they nor anybody else understood yet - waited for them, so together they moved forward toward a bridge (it was the only one that was glowing faintly). As they went, they weren't sure exactly where they were going or what would happen. It seemed fitting to say something.

"I missed you. I love you."

"I love you too."

They were never sure when or if the next goodbye would come, but both knew that if it found them, they would also somehow find another hello.


End file.
